


you might roll your eyes at this (I'm so glad that you exist)

by toomoon (jjjat3am)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sharing Clothes, injury mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/toomoon
Summary: Mingi moved his arms as he talked, gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. The sweater pulled tight across his torso, and the sleeves cut off just over his elbows.He was wearing Jongho's sweater.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Song Mingi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 270





	you might roll your eyes at this (I'm so glad that you exist)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elutherya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elutherya/gifts).

> This was written for the Jongho Love Fest, theme week two, prompt 'sweater'. Claiming is now open and I hope you'll join us in loving the baby bear. You can find more information [here ](https://twitter.com/JonghoLoveFest).
> 
> This was also written for Rene. I hope it can give you some measure of comfort and happiness. It's not as good as a hug, but it's the best I got.
> 
> Title from the Weakerthans' The Reasons.

Mingi was wearing his sweater.

Jongho watched him talk animatedly with San, hiding behind his bowl of rice so he wouldn’t be caught staring. Mingi moved his arms as he talked, gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point. The sweater pulled tight across his torso, and the sleeves cut off just over his elbows. 

He was telling San something about aliens. Jongho couldn't focus, distracted instead by how the tight sleeves of the sweater were digging into the paler skin of the inner part of Mingi's arm. He didn't seem bothered by it.

Jongho briefly considered that Mingi had accidentally ordered the wrong sized sweater from an online store. It had been known to happen. The bear onesie that his members had ordered for Jongho online had looked decent enough at the time but when it arrived it was big enough to fit Yunho and Hongjoong. At the same time. 

But both the cut and color of the sweater were familiar. The sweater didn't look new. And if Jongho tilted his head - there it was. A small, barely visible hole under one of the armpits that he'd never gotten to fixing. It was unmistakably his sweater.

Why was Mingi wearing his sweater?

It could be that Seonghwa had forgotten to do their laundry for the week and Mingi had just run out of clothes. Possible, but unlikely, because Seonghwa treated laundry as a specific form of meditation. He wouldn't have let their schedule interfere with his folding unless the situation was absolutely dire. 

Besides, Mingi had one of the largest clothing racks in their closet, eclipsed only by Hongjoong's formidable collection. It was extremely unlikely that they'd all gotten dirty at the same time unless Mingi had somehow gotten in there with a cup of coffee and spilled it all over. Again, not impossible, but Jongho would have heard about it already if it happened.

Maybe Mingi had just been in a hurry and had grabbed something out of the perpetual pile of their combined clothing that was spilling like a wave out of their drawers. It hadn't been folded and put away since they'd moved into their room and it likely wouldn't ever be. One time, Jongho had grabbed the wrong pants out of the pile and had to roll them up several times because the pant legs extended past his toes.

However, Jongho was pretty sure that the last time he'd seen this particular sweater, it was stuck in the very back of the drawer, carefully put away so he wouldn't put it on and accidentally give unsuspecting Atiny a devastating glimpse of his armpit hair.

So really, the situation didn't make sense. 

Mingi’s monologue was winding down. It was early enough that San was mostly nodding off into his cup of coffee instead of actually listening, which luckily Mingi didn't seem to notice. 

Sensing an opening, Jongho opened his mouth - and then their manager was bustling in, and Hongjoong was doing a headcount and they were halfway late to their schedule and saying goodbye to Mingi who was staying behind at the dorms to nurse his injury and attend his physical therapy.

It was late by the time Jongho got back from their schedule that evening. The sweater was nowhere in sight and Mingi's back was a vulnerable silhouette under the covers. It didn't seem important enough to wake him and ask for an explanation. Jongho resolved to forget about it.

  
  


*

  
  


Mingi was wearing his sweater again.

It was even earlier than their usual schedule and the conversation at the table was subdued, everyone trying to keep from nodding off into their bowls of rice. Jongho watched Mingi, hunched in on himself over his breakfast, the circles under his eyes dark enough to look bruised. He looked exhausted. Jongho had overheard him talking to the manager the day before. The physical therapy had been hard and he didn’t feel like he was making enough progress. They were all still going to schedules without him and he was still waking up to have breakfast with them before they left.

Last night, Jongho had woken up to the light of their bedside lamp to find Mingi sitting up in his bed, staring at nothing. His injury tended to flare up at night, with nothing else to distract him. Mingi hadn’t been sleeping very well. Jongho remembered reaching out into the space between their beds to grab for Mingi’s hand, but he must have fallen asleep mid-motion. By the time Jongho’s alarm rang in the morning, Mingi was gone.

Mingi shifted in his seat, drawing Jongho’s attention to the way the too-short hem of the sweater was inching its way up his back, revealing an expanse of tanned skin. He fought the impulse to reach out and pull it down, and brush his hand against the familiar fabric.

The sweater was, indeed, familiar. In fact, Jongho had worn it all day yesterday. It probably stunk up close, like sweat and cologne, and there were pale marks on the collar where his makeup had rubbed off. He hadn’t bothered putting it in the laundry basket the evening before, had just thrown it somewhere into their shared pile of clothes, as he wobbled on heavy feet into the bathroom and then crawled into bed. The last thing he could remember seeing before he fell asleep was the shape of Mingi’s body under the covers, just barely visible in the light from the streetlights seeping through the gaps in their window blinds. 

So sometime in the morning, before Jongho woke up, Mingi picked up that particular sweater to put on and wear around their house and to breakfast. 

That was...something. Jongho didn’t know what exactly, just that it was.

With a sudden flash of embarrassment, Jongho realized he was staring at Mingi, and he looked away, searching for anything else to distract himself. His eyes caught on Seonghwa. He looked worried, a deep furrow between his eyes. Next to him, Hongjoong seemed emotionless, the tight grip on his coffee mug the only thing betraying the tension in his frame. Across from him, Yeosang was moving around the rice on his plate, eyes darting everywhere. Wooyoung was staring from under his fringe, and when Jongho met his eyes he looked away.

And it clicked suddenly for Jongho that they all knew something was going on. They all knew what he’d been wearing the previous day. That’s why it was so quiet. They were waiting for him to say something to Mingi about it. Did they expect him to scold him? Or was he supposed to say something else?

Jongho chanced a look at Hongjoong, searching for some kind of clue, but Hongjoong was still entirely unreadable. Jongho swallowed around his mouthful of breakfast, mouth suddenly dry. He coughed slightly and the effect on the rest of the table was instantaneous, tension suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife. The only one still seemingly oblivious was Mingi, intent on his hands where they were cupped around his mug.

“Uh,” Jongho started, “so I heard this American band guy got pictures of a UFO and released them to the public.”

And just like that, Mingi came alive. He sat up straight in his chair, eyes suddenly alert and sparkling. It took Jongho off guard, how quickly his chest warmed with fondness for him.

“I read that,” Mingi breathed. “It was so cool. If we ever get government secrets about aliens, we’re going to release them too, right?”

He looked at Hongjoong for confirmation. As Jongho watched, some of the tension seemed to finally unwind from his frame and he cracked a small smile. 

“Sure,” Hongjoong said, with a familiar tone of fond exasperation. And just like that, the tension was gone. Mingi was on a roll about the latest conspiracy theory that he’d apparently been reading up on while the rest of them were away and breakfast resumed. Jongho caught Seonghwa looking at him, smiling fondly. It made his face grow warm and he ducked it back down, focusing on scarfing down the rest of his food.

Still, something weighed heavy and worried in his chest, as he watched Mingi from under his eyelashes. The quiet, unnamed thing between him and Mingi that Jongho had barely been aware of forming - at least some of it had to have been more apparent than he realized. 

And obviously, it was expected that he do something about it.

  
  


*

  
  


They had a day off that was more like a half-day, but more than any of them had gotten in a good long while. There was only a radio interview to record in the morning and they’d gotten back home by noon, and Jongho had promptly gone to bed. He definitely wasn’t the only one. They were all exhausted.

Mingi wasn’t in by the time they returned. Probably at a therapy appointment still. It felt weird, seeing his bed empty before he closed his eyes. 

Unfortunately, he’d never been a person for long naps. Jongho woke up after an hour, totally wired and unable to go back to sleep. The sunlight was coming through the blinds just so, shining into his eyes no matter which way he turned. He felt sweaty and too hot, his mouth dry and eyes gritty, his head muddled up, all movement slow like molasses.

The cool air hit his arms when he slid free of the blankets, raising goosebumps. It was getting colder outside and while the dorm came with many benefits, it didn’t have the best heating system. After the sleepy warm cocoon of blankets, the cold hit harder. Jongho stood in front of the clothing pile from their drawers for a little while, contemplating it and shivering.

A hint of color caught his attention and he reached out to rummage through the pile. It took some tugging to get the fabric free from where it was stuck under a pair of Jongho’s jeans and Mingi’s gym clothes but it ended with him finally holding the sweater in his hands. It was white, with red embellishments which were what had caught his attention. The fabric was soft and heavy, the sweater bulky. It smelled clean and faintly of the fabric softener that Seonghwa was fond of using. 

It was a nice sweater. It also definitely did not belong to Jongho.

The bottom went all the way to his mid-thigh, and it looked strange against the faded color of his threadbare pajama pants. The sleeves flopped over his knuckles and he bunched the fabric in his hand, liking the way it covered his fingers. The sweater had a weight to it that was comforting, almost like he was getting a full-body hug from someone. It was really very warm. 

He rubbed his cheek against it to feel the softness and caught sight of himself in the mirror, flushing at how silly he looked.

It took him five minutes to gather up the courage to leave the room, but he was somehow more worried about Mingi getting back and seeing him standing in the middle of it, wearing the sweater. 

It felt almost elicit, stepping out into the hallway. He let the fabric fall over his knuckles so it covered his hands entirely and he was distracted enough by the feel of it that he almost didn’t notice when he got to the living room. It was empty, but there were voices coming from the kitchen, so that’s where he went.

Mingi was in the kitchen, talking to Hongjoong. He must have just gotten in because there was still a bit of red to his cheeks from the late autumn wind. He was wearing one of his own sweaters and Jongho told himself he wasn’t disappointed. Mingi wouldn’t wear one of Jongho’s sweaters outside their dorm, where it could be seen by other people. That in itself was telling, because it spoke of deliberate action, rather than something Mingi just did on a whim. It added another piece to the puzzle.

Mingi was standing facing the kitchen doorway, which was lucky because it meant Jongho had a good look at his reaction when he saw him come in. Mingi was in the middle of drinking from a glass of water. Their eyes met and Mingi’s dipped down briefly and widened. He promptly choked on his mouthful and started coughing, spilling the rest of the water down his front. 

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong said, visibly worried. He turned around to where Jongho was standing and his mouth dropped open mid-word. 

“Hi,” Jongho said. Mingi continued to choke. Hongjoong looked between them, like a spectator to a particularly intense tennis match, and then slid off the barstool he’d been sitting on.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, and promptly made his escape. 

Slightly at a loss at what he was being left to do, Jongho turned his attention to Mingi, waiting patiently for his choking to die down, playing with the sleeves of his sweater. Mingi’s sweater. It was all a little confusing, but he was determined to be brave about it. 

Mingi choked out a rough, “Hello,” once he’d stopped coughing. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at Jongho, his gaze sliding across his body in open appraisal that made something warm and slow curl in the pit of Jongho's stomach.

“Did you just get back?” Jongho said, because his mouth was full of words, clamoring to sit at the root of his tongue, but he couldn’t get any of them out, so he resorted to small talk instead.

“Yes,” Mingi breathed. “You’re wearing my sweater.”

Jongho couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across his face. “Yeah,” he said, hand coming to self-consciously tug at the bottom of the sweater.

“Why?” Mingi asked. He was blushing, the tips of his ears a furious red.

“I was returning the favor,” Jongho explained, matter-of-factly. “You’ve been wearing mine.”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed,” Mingi mumbled. 

“Well, I did,” Jongho said.

“Oh,” Mingi said, and they just looked at each other for a minute, at a loss.

Jongho looked down at where Mingi’s hands were resting at his sides and it was a simple thing, crossing the short distance to grasp one and twine their fingers together, the sleeve of the sweater covering them both.

“Your hands are so cold,” Jongho muttered, frowning slightly at their joined hands. “Didn’t you wear gloves? You’ll get frostbite and they’ll fall off, and then where will we be? You won’t even be able to hold a microphone.”

Mingi huffed out a laugh that had Jongho looking back up at him. And he promptly forgot the rest of what he was going to say because Mingi was looking at him with so much naked emotion on his face that Jongho felt his cheeks grow warmer. 

“You -” Mingi started, a little choked, and then he was pulling Jongho in closer, and they were hugging, Mingi’s arms around Jongho’s shoulders and Jongho’s hands tight across Mingi’s torso. 

“You must still be really cold,” Jongho mumbled into Mingi’s shoulder, “you’re shaking.”

Mingi let out a sound, something caught between a laugh and a sob. “You really have no idea what sort of effect you have on people, do you?” he said, and he was leaning down, pressing a kiss to Jongho’s cheek, and to the corner of his mouth. 

They were kissing, soft and warm, and just on the edge of desperate, and Jongho’s hands were slipping under the fabric of Mingi’s shirt, and Mingi was complaining about the angle and trying to lift him despite his injury. 

Something clattered loudly onto the floor and Seonghwa’s voice came floating in from the depths of their dorm.

“You two better not be doing it on the kitchen counter, I swear to god - ”

And then Jongho was tugging Mingi towards their shared room as they both tried and failed to stifle their giggles, and he was still wearing Mingi’s sweater and he felt brightly, brilliantly happy.

  
  


*

  
  


Jongho frowned at himself in the mirror. He remembered liking the sweater he was wearing. The last time he’d worn it, it had fit well, hugging his muscles, the grey color drawing attention to his features. But now it sat on his frame a little weirdly, too wide in the shoulders and with the sleeves too loose around his wrists.

It took him almost a full minute of staring at his reflection to realize.

“Mingi hyung!” he roared in the direction of the bathroom. “You bastard, you stretched out my sweaters!”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [ twitter ](https://twitter.com/leewoong). Don't forget to check out the Jongho Love Fest and join us if you can. Also, stream Wonderland and leave me a comment if you liked this.


End file.
